


messenger

by orphan_account



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-29
Updated: 2013-08-16
Packaged: 2017-12-21 18:14:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/903333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eren may or may not be a little jealous of a potential homewrecker.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. kinship

**Author's Note:**

> ok its been FOREVER since i last did something with chapters so im really excited to turn this into a thing!!!

His palms began to sweat profusely, no doubt staining the envelope and smearing the ink, as his heart thudded against his ribcage; as if it was threatening to burst free of his too-damp chest.

“Listen, Eren,” Jean mumbled, taking a solemn step forward. Eren's back may have been turned to him but the boy was definitely listening. “I need a favor.”

“Did you follow me all the way out to the bathroom to ask about Mikasa again?”

His voice was sharp. It didn't take much time for Jean to realize he was nearing his limits. “I don't know how many more times I've got to tell you. She's not interested, creep.”

He run his hands under the cold water of the faucet for a moment before turning on his heel to face the other boy who, at that point, was staring down at his own shoes with an embarrassing amount of intensity.

“It's not that, I promise.”

“What the hell do you want, then? It better be quick 'cause I'm not in the mood to deal with you right now.”

“This.”

Jean held out his hand, still clutching the wet envelope. “Please. Please give this to Armin.”

Gingerly, Eren took it from him and looked over the front. In red ink was written “Fr Armm” which, before being smudged with Jean's unholy amount of perspiration, may have once read “For Armin.”

“What even is this?”

He scarcely had time to decipher whatever the hell was scribbled on it before Jean was already out the door.

* * *

After dinner, all the boys headed back to their cots in the barracks.

Eren plopped down onto his bed and stretched. A slight crinkling noise emanated from his pocket, jarring him out of his post-meal stupor.

Jean's letter. He'd completely forgot about it. Of course, there wasn't any way in hell he'd be giving it to Armin in the first place.

He was still curious, though.

Pulling it out of the front of his jacket, he tore open the envelope and began to read. His eyes began to strain as he scanned over the smeared graphite chicken scratch. Jean's handwriting was atrocious.

 

_“Dear Armin,_

_I've been thinking about you a whole lot lately. You are really pretty like a girl but not in like a weird way. Your eyes are nice and blue like the sky outside when there aren't any clouds or titans in the way. I like that a lot. We don't talk much because Eren is a total asshole and I think it would be good if we changed that and went on a date sometime. You are really smart too and I would like to talk about books and stuff with you._

_Jean”_

Eren let out an incredulous scoff before tearing the letter into tiny shreds. The guy was a total creep. Even if said creep had wormed his way past the boy's watchful eye, Armin wouldn't even give him the time of day.

“Hey, what's that?”

The very subject of the letter jostled him out of his quiet rage with a gentle tap on his shoulder. Eren had been so engrossed in ripping the paper into pieces as tiny as physically possible he hadn't noticed Armin had taken a seat next to him.

Eren hastily crammed the torn mess back into his pocket(as much as he could anyway).

“It's nothing. Connie tried to draw a naked girl and it came out like shit so he gave it to me,” he lied, moving over just enough to give Armin space to stretch out and lay down.

“Connie's so immature, isn't he?”

Armin let out a little laugh and plopped his head into his friend's lap. “Heck, everyone here is. Except for you and Mikasa, of course. I bet you two are the most mature people around. It kind of makes me a little jealous sometimes.”

The last sentence began with a smile and ended in a bit of an embarrassed pout.

“Bullshit. You've got no reason to be,” Eren reassured him, tentatively running a few shaky fingers through his hair and scratching at his scalp. His cheeks were quite flushed and, silently, he was hoping no blood was rushing to anywhere else. “I think you're pretty grown up.”

The three of them- Eren, Mikasa, and Armin- had been that close since childhood. Armin had to share a bed with at least one of the two and often cuddled with all three. It was never anything strange; never anything more than three siblings watching out for one another.

It wasn't until Eren grew older that the butterflies gently bouncing about in his stomach grew into angry hornets making an incredibly nervous mess of his gut.

Of course, it wasn't just his belly learning new ways to respond to Armin's touch with time.

“You really think so?”

The boy rolled from his side to his back and looked up at Eren with ridiculously dewy eyes. With eyes like his, anyone would have the urge to coddle him; to protect him. But, unfortunately, Eren was beginning to come across different urges, too.

“Definitely.”

After a few moments of contented silence, the two changed into their pajamas and nestled together in Eren's tiny cot.

At first, the other boys had teased them about their sleeping arrangements. However, after threats of a few broken legs from Mikasa, they seemed to stop for some strange reason.

As he pressed Armin's face against his chest snugly, but with just the right amount of room to breathe, Eren couldn't seem to stop thinking about the horse-faced boy's letter. Something about it just seemed to make his stomach roil. Armin's legs gently intertwining with his didn't exactly settle his anxiety, either.

“Eren, are you okay?” he heard him ask, muffled by the front of his shirt.

It couldn't have possibly been jealousy- their relationship wasn't like that. It just wasn't.

Armin needed him. He was family, after all. He needed to protect him. He had to keep him away from creeps with ham-fisted pickup lines scribbled on lined paper.

He had to keep him all to himself.

“Eren?”

The feeling was coming back. The strange warmth in his chest that swirled around within him whenever he massaged Armin's sore, strap-bruised shoulders; the same blush creeping across his sweaty face as his breath began to hitch whenever he saw him change in and out of his uniform.

More importantly, he felt a curious palm pressed up against his crotch.

“Eren, what is that? Is something wrong?”

He quickly glanced down as Armin was staring up at him with worry.

“D-don't!” he hissed, turning over onto his side so his back was turned to the other boy. “I'm fine. Just go to sleep, okay?”

“You're really sweaty,” Armin panicked, pressing his face into his back and reaching around to feel his damp chest. “Do you have a fever? I can take you to the infirmary right now if I need to.”

“It's not- I'm fine! Really!”

After some fussing and rolling around, Armin finally gave up and fell asleep with his arms around Eren's waist.

Eren, however, was wide awake.


	2. shiver

 “A-Armin!”

 

Two thin, stumpy fingers were curled around the front of Eren's pajama pants playfully tugging forward and letting it snap back against his stomach, as Armin hunched before him on one hand and his knees. The boy smiled up at him just as he usually did, but it seemed different from all his other little simpers.

 

The boy didn't say a word in response, only a coquettish purr with an uncharacteristic smirk. Eren's breath began to run short and ragged as his friend slowly rubbed his palm against the erection straining against his pajama bottoms, his face burning bright red and his chest constricting.

 

“Armin, don't touch there I-I— ”

 

Eren's words were cut short as Armin yanked down the front of his pants and-

 

He awoke in a sweat, sitting upright while panting heavily.

 

It was just a dream; one of those same bizarre dreams that had been haunting every other night of sleep he had, always ending the same abrupt way and always leaving behind a damp, sticky stain in his underwear.

 

As always, the very subject of the dreams would remain by his side sleeping so peacefully, so unaware of his imaginary defilement.

 

With a sigh, Eren laid back down and pulled the drooling boy into his chest, holding him tight until he finally fell asleep again himself.

 

\- - -

 

 The day proved to be rather uneventful– especially for Jean. He was no stranger to going through the motions. One of the few times of day he really got to shine was lunch, his second favorite time of the day.

 

Normally, he'd grab his lunch tray and sit with whichever table is the loudest, get into an argument of some sort with Eren, finish his lunch, then retreat back to the barracks and pick more fights. Of course, things went a little differently before Marco died. That was a story for a different time, though.

 

Just like he normally did, Jean picked up his lunch and glanced over the room as nonchalantly as possible; both Eren and Mikasa sat next to Armin on either side, seeming to guard him. Asking if he had gotten his letter or not required a lot more sneaking than he had previously thought.

 

He plopped down at the bench across from the boy, which drew suspicious glares from his friends.

 

“What do you want, creep?” Eren hissed, instinctively scooting closer.

 

“Cool it, Jaeger. I'm just here to talk to Armin; didn't think it was a problem or anything.”

 

Jean's heart skipped a beat as he met Mikasa's cold, protective-but beautiful-glare. Her almond eyes glanced over at her adoptive brother as if they had some sort of strange nonverbal language. Adoration turned to intimidation as the boy stared before Eren slammed his palm against the table to shake him out of his stupor.

 

“If you're gonna talk, talk!” he snapped; his patience clearly wearing thin.

 

Despite the tense mood, Armin's expression remained soft; confused and a little frightened, yet soft. Jean's level of confidence suddenly dropped like a stone.

 

“I-I was wondering if, think maybe you and me, I- Are you doing b-busy a thing tonight?”

 

The look on Armin's face was one of pure bewilderment.

 

“I don't understand,” he said timidly. “Eren, he—“

 

“Aw, shit. I mean,” Jean stammered, breaking eye contact and suddenly staring at the wood grain in the table. “Maybe you wanna outdo a hang?”

 

Armin was clearly uncomfortable and Eren was clutching his gut while laughing almost violently.

 

“You hear that, Mikasa?” he spat out through laughter, playfully slapping her shoulder. Even through her stony expression one could easily see she was amused. “This asshole wants to take our little Armin on a date! Maybe he can teach him how to talk right, too!”

 

“S-shut up, I—“

 

Eren stood up abruptly and smacked his palm against the table, drawing the attention from the rest of the room towards them.

 

“Kirschstein here is single and wants everyone to know! Any takers?” he hollered, gesturing towards Jean as a few girls giggled quietly. He opened his mouth to speak again, but was cut short by the sound of dishes rattling as Jean launched himself over the table, coming down at Eren with a rain of expletives and fists.

 

\- - -

 

After the inevitable visit to the infirmary following the fight in the mess hall, the rest of the day went by somewhat quietly. It was getting late, close to "lights off" time, so the communal showers were crowded with boys loudly conversing about their days rather than actually bathing.

 

Jean shoved past a shorter recruit to stand under the lukewarm water and ran his hands through his hair, his fingers catching on a slight tangle. Through the running water, he could still hear two other boys chatting a few feet away.

 

“Did you see Kirschstein get his ass kicked during lunch today?”

 

“Oh, yeah! That was hilarious.”

 

Embarrassed but not wanting yet another trip the the infirmary, Jean did his best to ignore the voices behind him.

 

“That guy's never gonna get laid.”

 

“Aren't you a virgin, though?”

 

“N-no!”

 

He rinsed off in silence as the two boys argued over who “got laid like a million times” and who was doomed to be “a virgin for like a million years.” It certainly wasn't nice to listen to, but it got him thinking: was Armin still one, too?

The girls tended to go for the smart and strong guys, and Armin fit at least one of those categories. But, then again, everyone seemed to make fun of him all the time so maybe that was a little out of the question. The only people that didn't pick on him were—

 

Suddenly, Jean's blood ran cold. Mikasa just didn't seem like the type, especially after rejecting his own advances so many times and Eren, Eren probably wouldn't know how to even do it in the first place. Of course, they were also so close, it wasn't possible to see one unattached from the other. Eren even washed him and they slept in the same bunk. But, it wasn't ever sexual. Definitely not.

 

Or, at least, that's how Jean tried to rationalize it to himself as he wrapped his towel around his waist with shaky hands. He walked back to the lockers by the communal showers to get redressed and head to bed, but was stopped in his tracks by the sounds of two familiar voices.

 

“You're not gonna get soap in my eyes this time, right? You promised!”

 

“I won't, I won't.”

 

He ducked behind one of the rows of lockers and peeked out, watching Eren and Armin walk past. The two stopped by the benches as Armin whined about shampoo and began to undress.

 

“You said that last time, though,” the blonde boy began, shrugging off his jacket. “I could hardly see for the rest of the night! It really, really burnt.”

 

From where Jean stood, his vision was limited only to the back of him, so he didn't really have any view of his face. Despite the nagging worry of being seen, something seemed to have kept his feet glue to where he stood, trembling and sweaty.

 

“I'll try extra hard this time, then.”

 

He heard buttons popping and cloth, leather, and metal rustling as Armin's clothes dropped to the floor, exposing the milky, taut skin of his back and ass. He wasn't muscular and rough like all the other trainees, that much was obvious. However, Jean didn't expect him to look so soft.

 

“If you don't, I'm gonna tell Mikasa you did it on purpose!”

 

“Don't joke about that!”

 

Armin had very little tone to his body, giving his waist and shoulders such a slender, feminine appearance despite his boyish posture. The same slender waist tapered into just slightly wide hips and smooth, creamy thighs.

 

“S-shit,” Jean hissed under his breath, biting down on his bottom lip. He had seen him in the showers before, but never that close up.

 

Before he could even form another coherent thought, the other two boys left for the showers, leaving Jean alone with a rapidly beating heart and a rather embarrassing erection; the two main offenders in the “walk of shame” to the boy's bathroom.

 

\- - -

 

Jean stretched and yawned as he pushed open the bathroom door, feeling like a new man while walking down the hallway back to the barracks. He certainly wasn't unfamiliar with having to duck into the restrooms for a while just to rub one out. Still, the mood seemed a little more tense than usual.

 

“Jean?”

 

He heard a timid voice behind him as he turned a corner, pausing to quickly glance over his shoulder.

 

Armin stood a few steps away, holding a small wad of paper. “I hope I'm not bugging you.”

 

Making a strange, shocked gurgling sound, Jean spun around to face him, swallowing nervously.

 

“B-bugging? Nah, I,” he stammered, trying his best to muster up a smile. “Me good.”

 

“Right. Um, here's this.”

 

With a confused smile, Armin handed him the little note before taking a step back. “I know what it's like to be made fun of.”

 

The other boy took it clumsily, nearly dropping it. Just the idea of a handwritten letter from Armin was enough to send him reeling. The handwriting was so crisp and neat, so unlike his own. Unfortunately for him, his sweaty palms already began to smear the ink.

 

When he looked up to thank him, the other boy was already gone, most likely back to the bunks. His eyes fell back to the note again as he quietly began to wonder whether or not that had really happened.


End file.
